


Snap Out Of It

by velvetfics



Series: A.M. [Haikyuu] [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst to the max, Blood and Injury, Crimes & Criminals, Gangs, M/M, MENTIONS OF RAPE ONLY, Murder, References to Arctic Monkeys, Violence, lmao so much gay, no rape scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetfics/pseuds/velvetfics
Summary: Akaashi's job is demanding, dangerous and unpredictable. Kuroo becomes fascinated by his mysterious neighbour. Tsukishima only takes post-midnight orders from a pretty boy. Bokuto would destroy himself to make another happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> !!! first fic,,, i wanna make this fast pace bc i am an impatient hoe lmao okay enjoy hope its angsty enough for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revised chapter 2017// akaashi stops for hot chocolate on the way home from work and also gets a surprise visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikers i suck at rising plots hahhahahahahrip love me some shitty first chapter ammiright

 

Akaashi looked down at his fingers, a myriad of hues; purple, green, blue, yellow and red. All swollen and sore. Even under shabby streetlights, the thin stripes were visible.

 _What were you thinking?_  He scolded himself. _You saw it coming, dumbass. You talked back, what did you expect?_

His eyelids grew heavy, vision darkening, head spinning.

 _You have to speak your mind before you kill yourself_ , another thought drifted across his mind.

He was perpetually stuck sitting on the fence between a rock-bottom level of self-deprecation and logic - or something along the lines.

 _Dumbass_ , he shook his head, squeezing his eyes tightly and opening them a few moments later in an attempt to shake off the drowsiness.

His hold hand throbbed growing hotter and hotter. Who needed hot packs when you had red blood cells? Although, compared to when he first started, this kind of treatment was nothing. Boss was always harsher on the new recruits,  _“To keep them in line”_  he claims. A load of bullshit, but Akaashi would never dare to speak his mind. There was a strict hierarchy, and those who did not comply were eliminated in the slowest way. His boss was a disgusting man, but a powerful one.

_“So that they see it coming, and they know there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”_

Slow burn torture was his thing.

Shivers ran down his spine, goosebumps arising on his arms. White clouds flowed out his nostrils, rising over his head. It was a cold and miserable night, a perfect night for misfortune. Rainwater had seeped through Akaashi's shoes, icing his toes. Just his luck, cold toes for his hot hands. It really was true what they said; the world was depressing but hilarious, at least to the people with the right sense of humour. 

Akaashi wore dark attire; a large hooded coat, black dress shirt and straight pants that cut off above his ankles, worn thin at the knees. It wasn't a fashion statement but a testament to his wasted youth and poverty. From afar, he was nothing but an inky silhouette and to the naked eye, Akaashi seemed like your average, sleep-deprived student returning home from a night of debauchery.

His start to the day had been complete shit. He had received an unexpected call-back at six am - fucking fantastic. With barely any sleep and no time for food, not that he had any on hand anyway, Akaashi had to rush to work. For caution, he always parked his car a good five-minute walk on foot from his apartment. Nevertheless, he tore through alleyways and the morning air. The boss was a temperamental man. To top it off, Akaashi had foolishly mistaken his executive by two years as a subordinate. Though the Tanaka siblings may resemble each other, the elder distinctly had boobs. In his cranky and drowsy state, Akaashi had snapped at his executive who had asked him a question. The sound of the bat colliding with the floor still rung in his ears, the numbing of fresh coffee on his back. His back was bandaged and tended to by the company medical team. The nurses were a bit soft on him, maybe because he was still young compared to most or maybe because he said thank you.

You would have thought that after three years Akaashi would have learned how to make his life better. But it was like something inside of him was geared all wrong. He still had a habit of slipping snarky comments under his breath that were heard by all the wrong people and had an angry fire burning inside him - always angry, never warm. Akaashi lived life with misery on repeat. 

Despite how depressing his job was, a pessimistic voice inside his head always seemed to chip in. _A_ _nd what do you suppose you could do instead?_

Akaashi wasn’t proud of what he did for a living, and he would never tell his friends or family the truth - not that he had many. The work was dirty and illicit. At the end of the day, he was always left feeling nauseous, scared and filthy from the inside and out. Though, if he had made it this far, surely he could last a little longer. He was at terms with his endeavours and accomplishments, or lack thereof. At 22, there wasn’t much left that could shock Akaashi anymore. He learned the hard way that people were more monstrous than any monster in a fairytale. This past summer had been the three-year mark since he joined the organization. He had been promoted to Second Squad - which came as a shock to all. The department was full of enthusiastic sociopaths with high IQ's and Akaashi was the polar opposite.

The sugar-coated world he knew of went south and under a very,  _very_  long time ago. It was a messy and blurred part of his life. Four whole years of his childhood gone and with it, the last of his innocence. It didn't matter, he didn’t want to remember. If anything, he wanted to bury it six feet deep and layer it with cement.

_Fake it through until you make it true._

The pavement turned into slippery cobblestone. Akaashi took a shortcut home. His neighbourhood wasn’t exactly pleasant. It was full of shadows and hissing cats. Despite this, one of Akaashi's favourite places happened to be this shortcut path. It went through a lane of shops. The buildings were traditional and had an odd appeal to it. The hair on your head that didn’t quite fit with the rest. The glow of a cafe caught his eye;  _Karasu Place Café_. It was the first café that Akaashi visited and it was the only cafe that was ever open at this time of night in this neighbourhood.

Two years ago, the café had caught his attention because of a blackboard advertisement of hot chocolate. It was closed at the time. Perhaps he had been feeling particularly nostalgic that day but Akaashi was reminded of the last time he had drunk hot chocolate. It was in elementary when the teacher ushered him into the staff office and sat him down,  _“Drink this and wait here.”_ A milestone in his journey to adulthood.

Before he came across  _Karasu Place Café_ ’s midnight advertisement, he had never really thought about hot chocolate. It was like how you never really thought about paper clips or breathing. Akaashi had stumbled back from the café window and felt the colour fall from his cheeks. His throat closed and his head swam and the world had begun spinning. It brought back a memory he had forgotten. Not long after, a lanky boy had violently swung open the door with a scowl that rivalled Akaashi’s own. The barista boy’s words still echoed through his head;  _“It’s on the house if you quit moping.”_  Akaashi had been freezing in the night breeze and still trying to calm his racing heartbeat, so he went inside and took a seat on a plush couch, all the other chairs were stacked away in corners - as they were now. The guy was harmless, probably. The barista boy had returned back with a takeaway cup of hot chocolate with bobbing marshmallows. It was too sweet, too hot, but Akaashi liked looking at the barista, he was intriguing. He had shaggy blond hair, hunched shoulders and glasses. Moody eyes, pinched features, grey tracksuit. A sight seared into his memory.

Akaashi read the  _closed_  sign. He contemplated, his hand stinging sharply in his pockets. Should he go in? Or not? Would  _he_  be awake?  _He’s always awake_. Exhaling white clouds, he tried the doorknob before knocking with his whole forearm, tugging down his sweatshirt and coat sleeves. His fingers were leaking fluid and sore to move. After a few minutes of kicking the dust, the café door creaked open to reveal a very dishevelled looking barista boy, Kei Tsukishima. He had gotten a haircut which Akaashi hated but his eyes and glasses were the same as always.

“Long time, no see,” he said. Akashi’s last visit had been almost two weeks ago; he had been on a business trip the previous week.

“Been busy,” Akaashi stepped towards and into the café. The boy in front of him wore sweatpants that hung low and a hoodie. 

Tsuki, without a word, began to plug in the machines and make a cup of hot chocolate for Akaashi. There were a few stolen glances and the sound of the cashier ringing, but little else.

Akaashi closed his eyes, worn out from the draining week at work. It was only Thursday morning. Just three more days until Sunday. On Sundays, Akaashi was free to do anything, but what he usually did was go grocery shopping, sleep and question death. It was a necessary part of the week, he could take some time to think of reasons to live as he talked himself down. He could feel a pair of golden eyes lingering on him that made him agitated.

“Why are you staring?” Akaashi opened his eyes.

“Why are you always purple?” Tsuki questioned without breaking eye contact. His brows were furrowed together and his eyes bloodshot. The machine whirred, creating background noise as footsteps travelled in the upstairs apartments.

Akaashi blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Purple?”

“Nothing,” Tsuki turned away, shoulders slacking.

Silence pursued. It would be nice to call Tsukishima a friend. He was a bit distant and cold, but Akaashi was too. That was the way Akaashi liked his friends. The kind that didn’t pry or try to get too close. Though, Tsukishima seemed like the kind of person that would enjoy the company of someone with a light heart and bright smile. Someone that replace his worries, not add more to the list. Akaashi could only do the latter. He was a taker, for he had nothing to give. Friends never worked out for him anyway. He could never make the time or find the effort. People tried to get close before. They hadn't expected Akaashi to be like a black hole that sucked others into his lonesome pit. They bite the apple, not expecting it to be poisonous.

But Akaashi was lonely, so very lonely, and it would be nice just to call Tsukishima a friend. Selfish, but nice.

 

* * *

 

Akaashi had scoffed the hot drink and left in a hurry. Afraid that he was stealing Tsukishima’s sleep with his late-night orders.

"Goodnight," Akaashi said, he pulled up his hood, hiding his fingers under his sweatshirt sleeves. They were agonizing.

As he trekked down the cobblestone path, Tsuki called out, his voice ringing into the dead of night. "Kaashi!"

Only a few steps ahead, Akaashi turned just the slightest, his green eyes landing on the other, staring at Tsuki expectantly.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before muttering something under his breath inaudible at Akaashi’s distance. Then a single "Bye."

Akaashi grunted and walked down the path, fighting the urge to turn back and demand Tsukishima to tell him what he didn't say.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_ , he told himself.

 _But satisfaction brought it back_ , he added.

 _Shut up_.

It was a private war that had been raging inside him for so long, he couldn't remember when it started and he couldn't figure out which side he was on either. But, perhaps that was the point.

He veered off Karasu Place and began his walk down the road to the apartment building, unaware of the pair of cat eyes trailing his every move. When Akaashi reached the apartment lobby, he punched in the code and entered, taking the elevator to the sixth floor. It had a working hot water pump, which was a better start than most apartments on the block, and an elevator without a jamming problem, although the same couldn’t be said for his apartment door.

The building was a good cover. Most of the other homes were filled with single twenty-somethings flatting together. Strangers would simply lump him together with the other washed out university kids with low income. As he shouldered the door close behind him with great struggle, he flicked the switch on and headed to the coffee table where first aid supplies were strewn from previous nights. He rubbed his eyes until light burst with his palms. Akaashi shouldered off his coat and shimmied out of his layers, ignoring the commotions from next door and above.

As far as he knew, the home on the left of his was a bunch of university students flatting together, he’d seen perhaps three in there? He knew of one boy by the name Kozume Kenma. The two had once taken the elevator together and his name was printed on his school bag. A short boy with dyed blond hair, dark at the roots, with a girlish face and small frame. The home above him had more, although he didn’t know the exact number. Judging by the footsteps, they were big guys, and rowdy too. And the home to his right was only two, he could tell because one would sing karaoke and the other would yell at him to shut up. He had probably run into all of them at least once in the past two years living here, but he wasn’t too interested in getting to know them and neither were they.

The apartment was on the smaller side with barely any room in the kitchen for cooking. He had a fold-out dining table attached to the wall and a broken food dispenser. His cabinets were full of instant, convenient store food and his fridge contained mouldy leftover takeouts and expired frozen foods. Otherwise, Akaashi was a clean living person. His bedroom was bare; no photos, no posters, no personalization of any kind. It was often cold in there, even on the hottest summer nights. His shower was a bath crossed with shower booth hybrid without a curtain, least his toilet was clean but his sink had shave residue. He had a small television, a clock, a couch and a desk for work but little else in his living space. Akaashi sighed, looking at the clock that read 3:12 AM. His sleeping pattern was a train wreck, and it reflected who he was. There were spider webs on the clothesline and dirty clothes were piled inside his closet. It was a home for a person that lacked character. And that was the way he liked it. A home so immaculate and hostile that someone would double take to question if it was being lived in or not.

 _Give them nothing to hold against you by being nothing at all_.

Akaashi flinched, spraying one hand with disinfectant before doing the other. With both hands bandaged, he pulled over woollen gloves. Rummaging through his bag, he tossed the wads of cash into a safe that was carved into his couch, under the cushion and cover, he would deposit all this into his bank on Sunday, if he found the time. His job was well playing, but unstable. Depending on your ability to articulate a task, you were paid, and the only judge was the boss. The organization had a strange dynamic; inside the community, one of higher ranking could freely prod and provoke any subordinates without a squeak from the boss. However, the moment somebody from the outside dares to even give a nasty look at any member, it was war. A _protect your kin_ motto with a side of an outdated monarchic social system.

Despite how cruel the boss was; his people were loyal. They claimed they were saved by him, taken under his wing and that their lives became better. Akaashi called bullshit because he hadn’t smiled any more than he used to. Though, it was easier not to smile. If he smiled, he would grow greedy. He would want his heart to sing like it did in that moment forever, but like all things it was fleeting and the crash from such a cloud nine would surely be far more excruciating than any wound he had ever returned home with from work.

To be fair, others in the organization had it harder than Akaashi. Compared to them, his life was a dream, it was a fantasy, it was preferable at least. For instance, there was one member, red hair, and crazy eyes. Akaashi didn’t know the guy personally, nor had he really ever spoke to him before, they were in two different units, but rumour had it he was tortured by his family and that fucked him over, some even dub him as mother killer; for reasons, Akaashi could only assume. No details, but at night Akaashi can hear them singing a chilling lullaby that makes him glad that he didn’t know any at all.

It was much more preferable within the premises of the organization to not have a childhood, like Akaashi, than to have one so traumatizing, like the majority. Better to be alone than to surround oneself with poison, better to live on the streets than in a home of terror. It was a basic concept that deemed him as one of the lucky ones – and everyone told him so.

_Get it together, you had it easy._

And when told this enough times, Akaashi began to believe it. He had no objections, it was true. Growing up isolated had allowed him to mould himself, choose his path, have freedom in whatever he did, and that was all that mattered. Right? Torture is the most horrific thing one human can do onto another, and these people were tortured mercilessly. Akaashi was never tortured, he had no scars on his skin, no disturbing lullabies he couldn’t forget. _Luck was on your side_ , they say. These were the people that deserved better than a life like scum, a job where they are hunted, kill or be killed battlefield. Akaashi’s job required them to get bloody hands, to get rough and dirty, to bend the rules, or snap them in half. It was survival of the fittest, the one with the biggest will to survive.

What scared Akaashi was the idea that perhaps he had lived too much of an easy life and was unable to have a strong enough will to stay alive or to compete with his colleagues.

_Incompetent._

_Do you want to die? Stop being ungrateful._

_You haven’t seen shit, buddy._

_This kind of lifestyle is fit for someone like you._

Akaashi rubbed his eyes with his palms again, shaking his head, though unable to completely rid the thoughts. Midnight philosophy, people would call it. More like an annoying alter ego. At some point, the neighbour had stopped banging on the wall, instead, there was a bang on his door. His hair spiked and stood on ends at the sudden noise. Recovering from his startled state, he swiped the contents spewed across the coffee table into a big box and pushed it under the table. As quietly as he could manage, he made his way towards the front door.

"Who?" Akaashi called drowsily.

"Who!"

Akaashi blinked, did he hear correctly? What kind of dumbass replied  _who?_ with  _who_?

"Who?" Akaashi repeated.

"Who!"

"What the fuck?" Akaashi snapped.

"It's who!" The other person replied in a tone far too happy for the crack of dawn.

"Who,  _who_?" Akaashi growled before realizing how utterly annoying this person was before he could even respond.

"You're an owl! That's so cool!" The person on the outside began laughing obnoxiously.

"Fuck off," Akaashi grumbled, assuming it was some high uni kid with nothing better to do than ride off his exam season anxiety - Akaashi couldn't relate. As he began to clean up his living space to go to bed, there was another bang on his door that went ignored.

_Bang._

_Bang._

_Bang._

They were steady, hard knocks.

"I'm sorry, could you open the door?" The other asked in an oddly whiny voice.

Scowling, Akaashi trudged to his door and swung it open. What he didn't expect was a buffed up guy, an inch or two taller than him with a long fringe and frosted tips. He held a large red box in one hand and wore a medical glove on the other. He stood with good posture, a wide smile and two red eyes.

"Hey, you're not treating your wounds right," his smile expanded, surpassing Akaashi's expectation that it had already been at the widest.


End file.
